Devlin's Defiance: Book Two of the Devlin Quatrology
Page 20
They gave her their orders, and she took them to the kitchen, returning with Gordy's orange juice and Dallas' cranberry juice.
“Oh, Gordy, thank you for helping me get the job here. I'm having a great time, and Dottie's a super boss.”
“No problem, Chel; you deserved it.”
“And I've been pushing your book here, too. But I noticed you put in the part about those papers I gave you and Rosemary, but nothing about what you found on the Net about 'em.”
“Yeah; that was all a little too scary for me, once I saw what was there. So I left it out.”
“Really? Wow. Maybe I'll have to search those myself.”
“If you do, be careful, okay? Don't blab that around … not even a little bit.”
“Oh, geez; it's that bad?”
“It's pretty bad, and scary. More the second one; the first one is already pretty public.”
“Okay; I'll be careful. I'll be back with your meals soon as they're ready, okay?”
“Super. Thanks, Chel.”
“What was that about, Gordy?”
“I put her in the book, in the scene at the Seabreeze Cafe.”
“Oh, right; she did the Elvis impression?”
“Ah, no; that was Beverly at the Seafood Shack.”
“Oh. Guess I'll have to go back and check on that. But don't let me keep you from your reading.”
- 98 -
February 6, 2013
9:08 a.m. local time
Llanrhaeadr-ym-Mochnant, Wales
The Ocelot stepped back from the window in the hotel as she saw the target striding out of the bank beyond the car park. She watched as he went into the post office next to the bank and a few minutes later came back out, casually riffling through some mail. He then crossed Market Street and went into the butcher shop, emerging several minutes later with a small parcel tucked under his arm. Back across Market and a quick stop at the newsagent for a paper, which he tucked next to the butcher's parcel.
“And now to the market,” she said to herself.
And that is exactly where he went next, spending several minutes inside, then holding the door for an older woman who came out with a large shopping bag held protectively in both arms. They chatted amiably for a moment before shaking hands and parting ways, the woman heading toward the bank, the target toward the hotel.
“Time to move.”
She opened a small toothpaste-sized tube and smeared a dab of its contents on the palm of her right hand, being careful not to let any get on any unprotected skin. After closing the tube, she rubbed her palm with a tissue, then dropped that into a plastic bag, along with the latex glove she pulled from her left hand, sealed the bag, rolled it up and put it in the false bottom of a can of deodorant, then screwed the can back together.
Glancing out the window to gauge the target's progress, she slid the can and the tube into her overnight bag, picked up her purse and cane, hunched her back slightly and went out the door and down the stairs to the lobby, muttering quietly to herself.
- 99 -
February 6, 2013
7:47 a.m. local time
Bonita Springs, Florida
“Delicious, Dottie, as usual.”
“Anything else you want, Gordy?”
He glanced at Dallas, who shook her head.
“No thanks, Dottie; we're fine. But could we get a pair of doggie boxes?”
“I'll take care of it, Gordy. Be right back,” Dottie said, picking up their plates.
“Those pancakes were great.”
“Yeah, mine, too. Dottie's got a great staff here.”
“I noticed her name tag read 'Dottie,' I-E, but the sign outside spells it with a Y.”
“Yeah, I've noticed that, too. No idea why. I'll ask her when she gets back.
“But now, back to business. I loved the new way you went at it, and that POV stuff also helped me solve a problem I was wrestling with last night.”
“With Rosemary?” she asked, smiling.
“No, with a scene I'm writing.”
“SCR.”
“Ah. Good one.”
“So you like the new one?”
“Love it. It's even better than the one I thought was perfect.”
“They're yours, both of 'em. Do whatever you want to with 'em.”
“God, Dallas, that really is so generous of you. You sure I can't pay you, do something for you?”
“Nah, that's fine. Just remember, we have to keep it a secret that I wrote it.”
“Right; I promise. I'll keep calling you Dallas, not Dallas. Cross my heart.” He did so.
“Here you go, Gordy,” Chelsea said, putting two carryout boxes on the table. “Still doing that grazing thing, huh?”
“Yup.”
“And he got me started on that, too,” Dallas said.
“You know, you look familiar. Have you been in here before?”
“No, not before today.”
“Well, for some reason” –
“She's a writer, Chel; maybe you've seen her picture on her books?”
“I don't – wait a minute. Are you – oh, my god, is it – oh, I can't – what's your real name?”
Dallas told her.
“Oh, my god! I LOVE your books; I've read all of them, every one. They're so” – she looked around and lowered her voice – “so sexy!”
“I'm glad you like them.”
“Can I get your autograph?”
“Sure. What do you want me to sign?”
“Oh, I'm such a ditz. I've got one of your books in my bag in the back. Would that be okay?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you. I'll be right back,” Chel said, rushing away.
A few people at other tables looked over at the excitement. Dallas looked down, holding her hand beside her face.
“Gordy, can we get out of here as soon as I sign her book? This happens way too often.”
“What does?”
“There are some downsides to celebrity.”
“I can imagine.”
“You ever been surrounded by a bunch of old women who call you a slut, a whore and worse?”
“No, not really.”
“Well, not everyone likes my books like Chelsea does. And those women aren't shy about expressing their opinions.”
“Oh, geez.”
“And I can see a lot of that type in here right now.”
Gordy looked around and noticed a couple of women whispering to their table companions. Then he looked closer at one of them and recognized Alice from the Hat Squad.
“Uh-oh. I see what you mean.”
“Here you go. Can you make it out to Chelsea?”
“Of course,” Dallas said, smiling up at her. “Anything special you'd like to me write?”
“How about 'To Chelsea, my biggest fan'? Would that be okay?”
“Sure.” Dallas scribbled in the book, smiled and gave it back to Chelsea. “There you go.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you. I'll treasure this always. Would it be okay if Gordy took a picture of you and me together?”
Gordy looked around, noticed Alice starting to move in her seat, and said, “How about if we do that outside, by the front door?”
“That'd be great.”
Gordy and Dallas got out of their seats and headed to the front door, passing Dottie on the way.
“Chel told me who you are. Thank you for dining with us.”
“Hey, Dottie, we're gonna take a quick pic, okay?”
“Sure, no big – oh, can I be in it, too?”
Chel looked at Dallas, who nodded.
“Great. Thank you.”
Gordy hurried them out the front door, where the three women posed as Gordy took the photo, and then Dallas scampered to her car and drove off, smiling and waving at Gordy, as he and Chelsea and Dottie waved back. Chelsea and Dottie went back inside as Gordy headed for his car.
“Oh, geez, I forgot to pay the bill,” Gordy said, and headed ba
ck into the restaurant.
As he finished settling the bill, he glanced over and saw Alice muttering to the two women at her table and starting to get up again.
He then made as graceful an exit as he could, breathing a sigh of relief as he started his car and got onto Bonita Beach Road, heading home.
- 100 -
February 6, 2013
9:27 a.m. local time
Llanrhaeadr-ym-Mochnant, Wales
“Timing is everything,” she muttered, limping across the lobby and glancing out the front window, “some of the time.”
As the target came through the arched front door of the hotel and stepped into the vestibule, the Ocelot fumbled with the back of her right hand at the handle on the inner vestibule door, muttering angrily to herself and wobbling slightly on her cane.
Seeing her distress through the glass panes of the door, the target reached out and opened the door, then stepped back to let her pass by him into the vestibule.
“Och, I thank ya mightily, sonny” she said in a crackling, raspy brogue. Then she stopped in the doorway, blocking his progress, and craned her head up, studying his face.
“Och, I've seen ye around the village, haven't I?”
“Yes, ma'am, you have. I've been here for a couple of weeks and I'll be staying another two or three.”
“Ye've a funny way o' speaking, ya do. Where ya from?”
“New York, ma'am.”
“Och, the Big Orange, right?”
“Apple, ma'am, the Big Apple.”
“Apples, oranges, it's all da same. So what's yer name?”
“Patrick, ma'am.”
“Och, a gud Irish saint, he was. I'm Margaret, but ye can call me Peg.”
“Nice to meet you, Peg.”
“And I you,” she said, holding out her hand, which he shook. She wobbled a bit on her cane and grasped his hand more tightly for a moment, until she regained her balance.
“Are you all right, ma'am?”
“Just a wee touch o' vertigo. Try not to get old, sonny.”
“I'm afraid it's inevitable, ma'am.”
“Och, you'd be surprised, sonny, you'd be surprised. But I must be on me way, so I'll just wish ye a fine day, a comfy evening and a good night's sleep.”
“Thank you, ma'am” –
“Peg, please.”
– “Peg, and the same to you.”
- 101 -
February 6, 2013
1:07 p.m. local time
Bonita Beach, Florida
“Oops,” Gordy said, wobbling a bit. “I musta stood up too fast.”
“You okay?” Ro asked, steadying him.
“Just a little dizzy,” he replied, bending over and holding his head down.
“Ah, that's better,” he said, straightening up slowly. “Just my low blood pressure.”
“Low?” Janet asked.
“Yup. I've got to talk politics four or five times a day just to get it up to near normal,” he said, smiling and arching an eyebrow.
Rosemary chuckled and Janet laughed, a bit nervously.
“Okay,” he continued. “One question.”
“Yes?” Rosemary said.
“Why did I stand up?”
This time, both Rosemary and Janet laughed a bit nervously.
“Just kidding. Gotcha.”
Rosemary chuckled, but Janet still could only laugh nervously.
“Okay; let's go get those hot dogs. Janet, Norm, want anything?”
“Nothing for me,” Norm said. “Janet?”
“No, thanks.”
“Okay.”
As they headed up to Deb's hot dog stand, Gordy asked, “So how did you like Dallas' new draft?”
“Loved it. Very, ah, stimulating.”
“How about the POW shifts?”
“You mean POV shifts.”
“Oh, right; QH acting up again.”
“Nice touch. And I think it adds even more to the, ah, eroticism of the piece.”
“Well, she is a BORN writer.”
“Sure is, in lower case, too.”
“Yeah. And this is so outside their boundaries. I loved it as soon as I read it. And I was glad I was sitting in Dotty's and not here on the beach.”
“Got you a little excited, huh?”
“Yeah. And Alice and a couple of the busybodies in her coven were sitting just a few tables away.”
Rosemary chuckled, then laughed, to the point where she started snorting.
“What?”
After a minute or so, when she managed to control herself, at least somewhat, she was able to blurt out, “I just had a mental image of Alice and those two twerking.”
“Whatting?”
“Twerking.”
“What's that?”
“You haven't heard about twerking?”
“No; I live such an ivory tower life.”
“Yeah, right.”
“So what's this – what was it – twurking? Is that that social media thing, with the 150 characters?”
“No, that's something totally different. And I think its 140 characters.”
“How do you spell it? T-w-u-r-k-i-n-g?”
“No, t-w-e-r-k-i-n-g. It's a thing teen girls are doing, wiggling and shaking their butts around and sometimes rubbing 'em up against teen boys' groins.”
“No, really?”
“Yeah, really. You'd be amazed at what us old folks can learn from our grandkids.”
“I'm amazed at a lot of the things you've learned just in the past few months.”
Rosemary didn't blush at that. She just smiled and said, “I know, and I'm learning more every day.”
“You're reading Dallas' books?”
“That I can neither confirm nor deny.”
“Oh, turnabout; bravo,” he said, chuckling. Then he groaned. “Ohhhh, I just had a flash of your mental image.”
“Of Alice twerking?”
“Yeah. Ewwww.”
“Hi, Gordy,” a cute blonde girl said, giving him a gesture with her thumb and index finger perhaps a half inch apart.
“Hi, Laurie,” he responded, but his gesture had a space of about three inches.
She laughed and said, “Hi, Rosemary.”
“Hi, Laurie,” Rosemary replied. “Still working at Pop's?”
“Yeah; super busy this year.”
“It seems that way; the beach is jammed.”
“Yeah.”
“How's Jeff?” Rosemary asked.
“Doin' fine. See him down there?”
Rosemary looked south, but shook her head. “Too many people. Tell him we said hello, okay?”
“Will do. See ya.”
“Hey, Laurie,” Gordy said, “got a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you know what twerking is?”
“Sure. Like this.” She turned away and wiggled her butt, did a quick back-to-front pelvic thrust, then turned back and said, “Why?”
“I never heard of it till Ro just told me.”
“And we both had an image of Alice and the Hat Squad twerking,” Rosemary added
“Oh, ewwww.” She pointed her index finger at her open mouth. “Ick. On that note, I'll take my leave,” and she walked off, another “Ewwww” escaping her mouth, accompanied by a shiver of her shoulders and head.
“Sorry,” Rosemary hollered after her. Laurie shivered again, but turned and smiled.
“She's gonna tell Jeff about that, I'll bet,” Gordy said.
“No bet; I'm sure she will,” Rosemary replied, chuckling. “Hope he doesn't throw up.”
“Hell, I hope that image doesn't come up again for me while I'm chewing on my dog.”
When they got to Deb's cart, she smiled and said, “Hi Gordy; hi, Rosemary. What'll it be?”
“Two jumbos, one with ketchup and mustard, and the other” – Jake said.
“Everything,” Rosemary said.
“Coming right up.”
“Anything new with the Hysterical Society?”
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“They've got a few things cooking, but nothing I can talk about yet. I'll have some fliers when they've got something scheduled.”
“Cool.”
“Hey, did I tell you the one about the Buddhist hot dog vendor?”
“Yup, last year.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, here ya go.”
“Thanks, Deb,” he said. “Keep the change.”
“You know change comes from within, right?”
“Yup. See ya.”
- 102 -
February 6, 2013
9:31 a.m. local time
Llanrhaeadr-ym-Mochnant, Wales
The Ocelot limped out of the hotel and past the hotel's car park, then stepped into the antique phone box at the edge of the public car park, but before picking up the phone inside, she pulled out a satellite phone, held it next to the regular receiver and dialed.
“Authentication 9845739. It's time.” She then clicked off and slid her satphone into her purse, but she stayed in the box with the other phone to her ear for another two or three minutes, then hung it up and limped to the newsagent, picked up a Dublin paper and slowly made her way back to the hotel, getting in the door about fifteen minutes after she'd left.
The desk clerk came over to her as soon as she was inside and gave her a message, informing her that one of her grandsons had been in a serious auto accident at their home outside Dublin and she needed to return home as soon as possible.
“Och, no. Young man, do you have any idea how I could get back to Dublin?”
“Well, ma'am, there's a bus at eleven and another at three, and the driver can tell you how you can get to Holyhead in time for the next available ferry. So if we rush, we can get you on the first one, or you can wait for the three o'clock.”
“Thank you. If it wouldn't be too inconvenient, could you arrange for the eleven o'clock? I'll get my luggage together and freshen up.”
“It would be my pleasure, ma'am. I'll arrange your bill forthwith.”
“Thank you. I shall be down shortly.”
- 103 -
February 6, 2013
2:28 p.m. local time
Bonita Beach, Florida
Gordy was awakened from his postprandial nap by a combination of a gentle caressing of the top of one of his feet, an alien-to-him humming noise and Rosemary's gentle, quiet voice.